


Touch Me Cruelly

by thepistolgirl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Hate Sex, Library Sex, Semi-Public Sex, accidental fluff, but its not v detailed, i'm rating this as explicit to be safe, they get schmoopy and sweet by the end of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 02:57:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10710723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepistolgirl/pseuds/thepistolgirl
Summary: what they once were, they can never be againbut that isn't necessarily a bad thingaka: library hate-fucking ft. accidental feelings





	Touch Me Cruelly

**Author's Note:**

> i know, i know, i need to write more for my other stuff, but this just sort of came out of me the other night and i was typing for like two hours straight 
> 
> my fem!stiles will always be lily collins
> 
> ps: is it weird that my main tw otp is sterek, and yet my first tw published work is stackson???

He likes to fuck her in the library, in the midst of what is supposed to be their study period. There are people at every table, studiously scribbling or childishly playing. They, however, are doing neither. They're tucked behind the chemistry section, against the hard, mismatched surface of the bookshelves. He's thrusting into her in long, rocking motions, his lips pressed to her neck in a way that has too much teeth and too little affection to be considered kissing. She's going to have more bruises to add to her collection tomorrow, but she can't pretend she isn't enjoying it.

"F- _uck, Jackson_ " she gasps, limbs tingling and numb at the waves of pleasure he pushes on to her.

Her legs are wrapped around his waist, crossing at the ankles near were his waistband would be, if it were not tucked under his ass. He hadn't even bothered to push his pants all the way down, so quick to get his cock into her. Although, she probably shouldn't talk; the hem of her skirt had met the underwire of her bra long ago, her panties still hanging off one knee.

"Shut the, _ngh_ , fuck up S-Stilinski." Jackson's voice is low and rough, and it sounds like he's having to put way too much brain power into dragging those words out than he normally does.

"Make me, _a-asshole_." She hisses back.

One of his hands moves from her bare thighs, where he's been holding her up for the past few minutes at least, slides up, over her ass with a rough squeeze along the way. It settles at the small of her back, where he uses it and the bookshelf to bring them even closer (as if that were even possible).

When he kisses her, actually kissing her this time, she's almost surprised. She shouldn't be at this point, it's not like it hasn't happened before many, many times, but it always makes her wonder if he realises that kissing wasn't a part of their non-verbal 'agreement'.

He kisses her deeply, his tongue stroking along hers, before pulling back again, and repeating. She almost starts laughing when she realises that the timing of everything is in sync, whether he realises it or not. When he's practically choking her, his mons pubis is grinding against her clit, and when he's slowly pulled back far enough that she can only feel the head of his dick within her, his teeth are a cage around her plump bottom lip, tugging selfishly.

" _Oh_ , my _God_." Stiles groans, muffled by the shoulder of his shirt, arms and legs pulling him closer by his neck and his waist. He doesn't seem to notice how his fingers are leaving violent pink indents in her right hip and the left side of her ribs, his forearms taking the bulk of her weight as they grind together. They're hugging now, strangely.

"Ungh, Stiles. Oh _fuck, Stiles_!" His yells are quiet whispers against her cheek as he comes, the lead to her own. She can feel his cock pulsing inside her, against her, the further tensing of his body and gasps in her ear a clear give away. She can feel his release, luckily not actually inside her due to the condom he'd conveniently had (presumptuous asshole), but the sensation of the condom filling inside her is unmistakable.

They stay wrapped up like that for another few minutes, until their breathing has evened out, their sweat is cool, and their hugging has gotten a little too personal. He lowers her down gently, simultaneously pulling out. She winces at the raw feeling. Still, neither of them move away.

"What about me?" Stiles asks, "'Wham, bam, thank you ma'am', that's it?" She murmurs.

"We both knew that _that_ was not the aim of this." Jackson retorts with a scoff that she wants to say was ugly.

Unfortunately, he's not wrong. It was very unlikely that she'd be coming this time around. It was too rushed for her, the angle not hitting her G-spot quite enough, and the lack of anything more than basic clitoral stimulation meant that this was not her time to shine. They had enough experience together to know this.

"But still," she whined sarcastically, "It'd be nice to be considered." She tilts her head at the smarmy grin that creeps on to his face, before he leans down to whisper in her ear.

"You'll be 'considered' later. And it won't just be 'nice'."

Stiles purses her lips to prevent a smile from breaking out too obviously, and instead just harshly presses a pointed finger into his rock hard abdominal muscles that she wishes she didn't like as much as she did.

"I should hope so." She responds curtly. When he's moved to give her barely enough room, she starts pulling herself together. She re-positions her bra and buttons up the collar of her shirt in an attempt to hide the marks, pulls her skirt back down to cover her ass and bends down to pull her panties back on both legs and up, under her skirt. Just as she's pulling her lost boot back on, she looks like to see Jackson watching her.

"What?" She asks the shit-eating grin.

"You have sex hair. _Obvious_ sex hair." He states.

"Oh." She would reply with something wittier, but her brain isn't back to 100%, and he's already looking as pristine as ever. He doesn't even have sex hair, lucky bastard, it just looks softer, like there's less product it in. Then again, she was the one up against the traumatised bookshelf.

She starts running her fingers through her shoulder-length hair, trying to get it to co-operate for once, but stops when she feels a hand grasping her forearm and pulling it down.

"Stop. I never said it looked bad, dumbass."

She looks up at him, staring as the amusement that's dancing in his eyes, a warm emotion she doesn't get to see from him often. She can feel a hilariously painful pull in her chest, a tug of melancholy nostalgia to back when things didn't matter so much. Back when Jackson's parents were still his parents, when they was still horrendously naive to the upcoming status quo, and when the people you were friends with were the people who socked jerk bullies in the nuts for you. She can still hear Tony McInterye's wails of pain after her satisfying blow.  
  
But that was then, and this is now.

"You're the dumbass, Mr Permanent B Plus." It's sort of a low blow, after all Jackson is in no way an idiot, he wouldn't be in the same classes as Stiles, Lydia, Danny and the rest of the school brainiacs otherwise, but she's feeling a little vindictive right now. So sue her.

Jackson rolls his eyes with a humourless, yet luckily not hurt, laugh. His grin is sharp. "If I wanted my comeback, I wouldn't be fucking it into you, now would I?"

Stiles feels a flash of desire stirring in her crotch at this words, a sudden intake of breath and the clenching of her jaw the only response she gives, despite wanting to say more. That's not even how they do things, asshole! They use condoms, remember? So he was essentially fucking his come in to a plastic, well-lubricated baggy.

Luckily, her brain-to-mouth filter must've been working at this stage, as she managed to keep her thoughts to herself as another voice sounded from the other side of the bookshelf.

"Jackson, where the hell are you? I'm not letting you slack this time, where's the damn textbook already?"

Oh, right, study hall. That was a thing they were meant to be doing, not each other. Wow, if the ever-patient angel Danny Mahealani thought it had been too long, she could only imagine how much Scott was likely vibrating in his seat from the anxious thoughts of her leaving him to get their chemistry assignment done alone. Poor puppy boy.

As she moved to go back to her table, the hand that had never left her arm tightened and pulled her back.

"My place, 7 o'clock." Jackson said directly, causing Stiles to furrow her eyebrows.

"But there's lacrosse practise till 7:30." She would know, after all. Before Scott got his begging-for-new-parts motorcycle, she would have to wait around for hours to give him a ride home.

"I know." He must've been holding it in his pocket the entire time or something, because he swiftly held up a simple silver key towards her. "Take this." She did.

"What is this for? The deposit box you keep your soul?" She asked as she plucked it from his fingers easily.

"Haha, hilarious." He shifted his shoulders. "It's to the front door."

"Of your house..?"

"Obviously."

Stiles stared at the key again. "Are your parents okay with you giving this stuff out to just anyone?"

Jackson scoffed. "Please, like they'd care."

Stiles gave Jackson a look of disbelief and judgement.

"Relax, okay, only Danny has a copy. And now you, I guess."

Stiles slid the key into the breast pocket of her flannel shirt carefully. "Fine then, okay."

"Okay." With that, Jackson turned to stroll away, but Stiles stopped him with a 'wait'.

At his questioning gaze, Stiles continued. "Why do I need to be there at 7?" She asked.

The grin she got in reply was horribly pitying. "And you say you're not a dumbass." Before Stiles could retort angrily, Jackson slipped closer.

"I'm going to be 'considering' you. Thoroughly." She started as Jackson's whispering lips. "And I'm not going to be 'nice'."

Stiles watched Jackson saunter away. God, even his shoulders were cocky.

"Stiles? Are you still here?" She heard a hesitant Scott call out.

"Coming!" She replied as she pulled out their required textbook, snorting at her unintentional pun.

 _Or at least, I will be_. 

**Author's Note:**

> this week on: where did the condom go??  
> knowing jackson, that nasty boy just hid it in a book or something  
> so yeah, i might write more to this, just don't pressure me (but feel free to give me ideas!!)  
> ;)


End file.
